The Bithos encampment within the plains of Tal-Jeorva sprawled across the hillside. Dozens of tents were arranged and guards patrolled with the grim determination of soldiers expecting the apocalypse to happen any moment. Banners snapped in the wind, depicting a terrifying white-robed figure with glowing eyes and reality fracturing around her.
Simion Tolemy, a visiting scholar, adjusted his red scholar's robes and his glasses as he approached the main gate, already cataloguing everything with the detached curiosity of someone who studied religions the way others studied insects.
"State your business." The guard's tone was not friendly.
"I'm here to speak with High Executor Jubal Sabiorma about theological and ontological matters." Simion's tone was polite but flat. "I'm a researcher from Rocsartre. I have questions about the Emanation you call Bithos."
The guards exchanged glances. One muttered, "Another heretic from Rocsartre, eh? For a pretty boy you must be strong to make it here alone."
"... Should I comment on that remark?" Simion replied.
The guards let him through.
Heh… how friendly, Simion thought.
Simion had spent years studying divine hierarchies across kingdoms. It was fascinating, really, how different civilizations categorized the incomprehensible.
As he walked, Simion thought about the conventional religions like Deorvinci; they all worshipped what Theolis labelled "False Gods" of particular heavens and hells.
Simion recalled information while he walked. The Ellogenes believed the real God purposely made the world imperfect with the self-code of "Contraction." The Pantarnu believed the universe was created by a false God, which was likely the most hated camp by Deorvinci. And Autarnu refused to say any words about the "beyond," viewing that any words and beliefs could give anyone illusions that they knew the truth.
Theolis claimed Deorvinci worshipped a false God. Above them, theoretically, existed the "Ayonos"- beings between False Gods and something higher. Rarely manifested. Poorly documented. Most scholars dismissed them as mythological intermediaries invented to explain theological inconsistencies.
And above them, supposedly, the Emanations… Simion mused. They are direct expressions of the invisible Godhead itself. Not just creators, but "revelations." The infinite is made temporarily finite. The unknowable choosing to be known.
Most scholars thought Emanations were poetic metaphors. Simion wasn't so sure.
Because of "her," he thought.
Theolis's records spoke of "B," an Emanation who'd appeared two thousand years ago. And unlike every other divine figure in recorded history, the descriptions were... baffling.
She wasn't described as terrifying. Or cosmic. Or even particularly dignified like I heard the Bithos cult claiming… I have to hear what the leader has to say.
According to Theolis, her name had faded in history, leaving only the initial "B." It was unknown whether it was erased unintentionally or got worn out through time.
No fear. No worship. Just... fondness.
The mysterious God called B fascinated Simion more than any cosmic horror ever could. If divinity could be "joyful" instead of "terrifying," if it could be "ordinary" instead of "transcendent," then maybe the entire framework of organized religion was fundamentally wrong.
Maybe God didn't want churches, he thought.
Maybe it just wanted Brioche buns.
He was pulled from his thoughts as a guard led him to the central tent.
Inside, a young man stood before an altar bearing a painted portrait. He turned as Simion entered. He could be handsome but didn't look friendly; he had an ascetic way about him, wearing white robes.
"You wished to speak with me?" The man's voice was cold and clipped.
"Jubal Sabiorma, I presume." Simion inclined his head. "I'm Simion Tolemy, scholar and mage from Rocsartre. I study divine ontology and comparative theology. I'd like to ask you about your Emanation- the one you call Bithos."
Jubal's eyes narrowed fractionally. "What about her?"
"Why doesn't she come here?"
Silence stretched between them.
Jubal's reply sounded unfriendly. "The Emanation manifests where she wills. We do not question her divine purpose."
"Interesting." Simion pulled out a leather notebook. "Because according to Theolis's historical records, she spent considerable time there two thousand years ago. Participated in establishing their philosophical schools. Interacted with citizens daily. Yet according to your sect, she's never manifested here, despite your devotion. Don't you find that curious?"
"Theolis are heretics," Jubal said, the word sharp as a blade. "They refuse to worship her properly. They treat the divine with casual disrespect. Of course she would not grace them with her presence now."
"Is that so?" Simion said calmly, still writing, "she prefers how Theolis treated her. As I understand it from the records, she never requested worship. Never asked for churches. Never demanded ritual. She laughed, joked, and took ordinary jobs to spend money. The founders describe her as-" he flipped a page, "...like an incredibly lively cute girl who is very very crazy but in the best way possible. Does that description match the entity you worship?"
Jubal's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Those records are corrupted by heretical interpretation! The Emanation is divine perfection. She would never-"
"Work as a waitress?" Simion looked up, eyebrow raised. "Because there are three separate accounts of her doing exactly that. Apparently she was terrible at it. Sometimes caught eating the food before delivering it to tables."
"Insolence!" Jubal's composure cracked. "The Emanation would never-!"
"Tell jokes about bodily functions? Make innuendos about male anatomy? Get into arguments about which bread is superior? I have dozens of documented accounts. Eyewitness testimonies. Consistent across multiple sources from different camps within Theolis. Either they're all lying which seems unlikely given how unflattering some of the stories are or your image of the Emanation is fundamentally incorrect."
Jubal stepped closer, his presence suddenly threatening. "You dare come here… into the heart of our sanctuary… and speak blasphemy…?"
"Blaspheming?" Simion said, not backing away, not showing he was intimidated. "I'm just pointing out a factual discrepancy. You seem worship an image of divine perfection, cosmic transcendence, and terrifying power. The historical accounts describe someone who was having..." He paused, searching for the right word. "...fun."
"FUN?!" Jubal's voice cracked.
"Yes. Fun. In fact ordinary in the most extraordinary way." Simion's eyes sharpened behind his glasses. "And that's what makes her actually interesting as a theological subject. She's not another typical God demanding worship through fear like religions claim. She's an Emanation who chose to be 'human.' To connect. To experience life not from a position of cosmic authority, but genuine participation. That's-"
A cheerful, loud voice completely shattered the tension, ringing out from outside.
"POTIOOONS!~~ GETCHA POTIONS HERE!~ Cheap and effectiiiive~ want something for erection?~ constipation treatment?~"
Both men turned toward the tent entrance.
"I got EVERYTHING you could possibly need! And some things you probably shouldn't need but might want anyway!~"
The tent flap burst open.
A girl stumbled through, pushing a wooden cart, looking like a merchant. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with long brown hair, and dark brown eyes bright with seemingly manic energy.
She beamed at them with a wide smile that looked comically happy.
"HIIII~! Oh wow, you two look SERIOUS! Like, we're deciding the fate of the universe serious!" She bounced on her heels. "Want some potions to lighten the mood? I got stamina boosters, mana recovery, focus enhancement- oh! OH!" She rummaged through her cart excitedly. "I got this NEW one that's supposed to help with erectile dysfunction! Haven't tested it yet but the dude I bought the recipe from, a trusted creep, said it gave him a boner so hard he could use it as a kickstand!"
Simion felt his brain short-circuit.
Jubal stared, frozen somewhere between outrage and disbelief. "who… who let this idiot in..?"
The girl didn't seem to notice, but it was possible it was an act.
She struck a pose like she'd just announced something profound. "Oh! And I got this experimental potion that's supposedly better than an aphrodisiac! And it's cheaper! I wasn't super clear on the mechanics, but either way it's gonna be a surprise! Do you guys need anything? First customer of the day gets a discount!"
Jubal found his voice, sounding dangerously low. "This is a sacred sanctuary….. You will leave immediately..."
"Awww, don't be like that!" The girl pouted, an exaggerated expression that belonged in a comedy stage play. "I came all this way! I heard from other merchants you guys have lots of moolah! PROFIIIIT~ Plus I just overheard you guys were talking about…B? Or wait, you call her Bithos, right?" She tilted her head like a curious puppy. "That's such a kinda weird name… I mean, it SOUNDS impressive, very 'ooh cosmic mystery,' but it's also kinda pretentious? Like naming your kid 'Penisior' or something! Where did you guys get that name? Theolis never claims that's her real name!"
Jubal's eyes twitched. "You... you speak the Emanation's name with such vulgarity...?"
"Not exactly but…" The girl rolled her eyes up sideways thinking... "Why not? It's just a name. Well, or a letter? But still! Why be all serious about it? Makes everything weird and uncomfortable. Like you ever notice how people who are super serious about religion are also the ones who never laugh? That's suspicious! I don't trust people who don't laugh! They're either hiding something or constipated. Usually both!"
Simion felt something shift in his chest. A laugh, sudden and unexpected, threatened to escape. He suppressed it, but barely.
This girl. this utterly absurd, vulgar, completely inappropriate girl had just articulated something he'd been thinking for years.
"Anyway!" She spun back to her cart. "I'm guessing neither of you are interested in dick pills. That's cool, not everyone needs help in that department. Though statistically, one in three men over thirty experiences some form of-"
"ENOUGH!" Jubal's composure finally shattered completely. "You will show RESPECT for the divine or I will-!"
"Whoa! Chill!" The girl posed a placate two hand gesture with a wide eye smile with a hint of amusement "Why not calm down a little, you'll grow old faster with that attitude! Don't tell me you're going to burn my vegena at stake for something so trivial! You religious types are all the same! So obsessed with making everyone fear the divine that you forget to actually enjoy existence! But sure, threaten the potion girl~ That'll definitely prove your god is legit.~"
Simion coughed to hide another laugh.
Jubal's attention snapped to him. "You find this amusing!?"
"Honestly?" Simion adjusted his glasses. "A little bit, yes. She's not wrong about the correlation between religious fervor and the inability to laugh."
"How DARE-"
"Also," Simion continued, his voice calm but firm, "she's touching on something I was trying to explain earlier. You're so focused on making B or Bithos, as you call her, into this terrifying, cosmic, untouchable figure that you've completely lost sight of what the historical accounts actually describe."
He turned to the girl. "You said you prefer just calling her 'B', right? Have you read the Theolis records? It's a bit odd for a merchant to know this much…"
"Mmm, some!" The girl bounced excitedly, clearly thrilled someone was engaging with her. "I mean, I'm not like a scholar or anything- but yeah! The stories are WAY more interesting than the worship version! Like I read she's so smoking HOT she's literally a walking dude magnet! Probably even some dudettes!~"
Simion's eyes widened. "I haven't read that account….Which archive?"
"Oh, it's in the… wait, are we seriously discussing bread history right now?" The girl laughed. "I love it! This is way better than the boring 'kneel before the cosmic horror' stuff!"
"There is NOTHING boring about proper worship!" Jubal's voice had risen to a near shout. "What you're saying is beyond blasphemous!!"
"But what if she WANTS jokes about that?" the girl countered, her smile turning almost mischievous. "Or what if the whole 'divine perfection' thing is actually super boring for her and she'd rather just, like, hang out and eat Regulach cookies?"
"The Emanation would never-!"
"How do you know?" Simion interrupted, his voice sharp. "Have you met her? Have you spoken with her? Or are you basing your entire understanding on this?" He pointed at the portrait on the altar.
All three of them turned to look at it.
The painting showed a tall figure in white robes, but everything else about it screamed cosmic horror. Glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through reality itself. The space around her fractured and bent, showing impossible geometries. Abstract shapes that hurt to look at. An expression of stern, terrible judgment.
Simion stared at it for a long moment..
Then, very calmly, very matter-of-factly, he said, "huh… so this scary abomination woman is supposed to be Bithos?"
A tense, dead silence followed. The words hung in the air like a slap.
The merchant girl looked at him, her eyes going wide in surprise. Then slowly, deliberately, her lips curved into a goofy U-shaped smile.
Her hands flew to her mouth, but it was too late. A snort escaped, high-pitched, as she tried to suppress a laugh.
"Is something amusing to you...?" Jubal's voice could have frozen magma.
The girl shook her head frantically, both hands still clamped over her mouth. Her whole body was shaking now.
Simion felt his own lips twitching. "I take it you don't think that's an accurate portrayal?"
The girl removed one hand just long enough to wheeze out, "That is the EDGIEST-" before dissolving into helpless giggles again, immediately reclamping her hand over her mouth.
"EDGY?!" Jubal looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. "This is a sacred image painted by our founder himself! It captures the divine-"
"It looks like someone asked a emo teenager to draw god!" the girl managed to gasp out between giggles. "The GLOWING EYES! The REALITY BENDING! It's like- it's like someone saw her and thought 'how can we make this as scary and serious as possible' and just went FULL cosmic horror! WHO ADDS FRACTAL GEOMETRY TO A PORTRAIT?!"
She doubled over, clutching her stomach from laughter.
Simion adjusted his glasses, looking between the painting and the girl. Something clicked in his mind.
"You're right," he said quietly. "That painting doesn't match the historical accounts at all. The B I've read about was described as joyful, approachable, sometimes even silly. This..." He gestured at the portrait. "This is the exact opposite."
"EXACTLY! Like, I'm not saying she wasn't POWERFUL or whatever, but making her look like a nightmare demon kinda misses the whole point!"
"And what…" Jubal said, his voice dangerously quiet, "would YOU KNOW ABOUT THE POINT!?"
"Who knows~" The girl's smile was bright and sharp. "But I can tell the difference between someone who was actually divine and someone you've MADE divine to fit your boring worship narrative!"
"You…."
"She's right." Simion's voice cut through the building fury like a knife.
Jubal's attention snapped to him. "What…?"
"That painting... your entire conception of Bithos… it's a fabrication. You've taken someone who was, by all accounts, joyfully and authentically human in the most profound sense."
The tent went absolutely silent.
The merchant girl stared at Simion with an expression that was impossible to read.
Jubal's face had gone from flushed to pale to flushed again, cycling through emotions too quickly to track.
"That abomination…" he repeated.
Simion's eyes were hard behind his glasses. "You turned her into something grotesque. You have no right to make your own theology out of someone… you've taken everything that made her genuinely likable, and you've turned her into just another terrifying god demanding worship through fear. You're no different from Deorvinci, No different from any of the cults! You've betrayed what she actually was!"
Jubal's hands moved to his sword hilts. "KNOW YOUR PLACE! You come into our sanctuary. You mock our founder's sacred work and you spit on the Emanation herself! What makes you think those Theolisians have true records!?"
"I'm not spitting on her," Simion interrupted, his voice rising. "I'm defending her, The real her! Not this cosmic horror fanfiction you've created to justify your need for control and certainty!"
"I SERVE the Emanation-"
"You serve an image!" Simion's calm facade shattered, passion flooding his voice. "You serve a LIE you've built because the TRUTH that she was ordinary and joyful and wanted people to be FREE is too threatening to your entire worldview! You're terrified of a god who doesn't demand obedience! So you've invented one who does!"
"I'LL SHRED YOOUU!!!"
"You just want to impose fear! Just like Deorvinci! Just like every religion that's forgotten what the divine actually IS! You want people on their knees because it makes YOU feel powerful! You want worship because it validates YOUR importance! But REAL her didn't WANT any of that! She wanted people to be HAPPY! To be FREE! To-"
Jubal's twin swords cleared their sheaths, and suddenly he lunged.
The twin blades of Arbistoria Nihilo flashed in the dim light, extending mid-swing into bladed whips that carved through the air.
Simion's hand shot up, Nous Bartos flaring to life. "Long face Horoxon!"
The ground beneath Jubal erupted upward, liquefying and then solidifying into a barrier of diamond-hard stone.
The strike of twin whip swords got blocked.
Nous Bartos was an artifact that had chosen Simion to be its user. It allowed him to manipulate any solid object, including floors and walls, into liquid and back to solid, changing the weight and hardness into different structures such as steel and diamonds without changing aesthetics and textures. It could also be used for other things, like turning brick into firewood without changing aesthetics. Currently, Nous Bartos operated on three conceptual core universes at once, making Simion absolutely invincible from any being whose power concept was limited to one universe domain or limited to two conceptual universe cores at once.
Simion rolled sideways. The tent exploded outward, fabric and poles shredding as the fight spilled into the camp proper.
Bithos cultists scattered in alarm.
Simion's hands moved in gestures, Nous Bartos responding to his will. "Rizon Telva!" The ground rippled like water. Dozens Stone pillars erupted upward. He shaped them mid-formation, liquefying and resolidifying iron chains, steel walls, and diamond spikes along with two Golems that could not be penetrated by any concepts across three conceptual universes.
Jubal traded blows with two Golems with no signs of exhaustion or struggle. But gradually, he overpowered them. Arbistoria's seven-dimensional penetration of the sacred artifact ignored Simion's three-dimensional defenses. What should have been an impenetrable stone might as well have been smoke.
But Simion wasn't just trying to block.
He was also trying to distract.
Several dozen stone golems erupted from the ground, their bodies hardened to diamond density. They charged Jubal from three sides.
Jubal's whip swords became a blur of motion.
The first golem lost its head. The second was bisected at the waist. The third managed to land a punch before its arm was severed.
But they bought Simion time.
He slammed both hands down. The earth answered. A wave of liquefied stone rolled toward Jubal in many waves of tsunami, then solidified mid-motion into a wall of interlocking diamond spikes. "Hard mind Seventh Strata: Long face Triroma!"
Jubal leaped over it, his whips extending to impossible lengths, wrapping around a tent pole and using it to vault higher.
From above, he unleashed a storm.
The whip-swords spun in rapid circles, creating a vortex of bladed wind. Each strike sent out cutting arcs of pressure that carved trenches in the hillside.
Simion threw up a layered dome of stone, each layer in different hardness, iron, diamond, steel, pouring power into Nous Bartos to reinforce each layer beyond normal material limits.
The first three layers shattered in seconds.
The fourth cracked.
The fifth held for fewseconds before spider-web fractures spread across its surface.
Simion pushed harder, sweat beading on his forehead. The sixth layer formed, thicker than the others-
Jubal landed on top of the dome and drove both whip swords straight down.
They punched through.
Simion threw himself sideways, rolling across broken stone as the dome collapsed. A whip blade carved a line across his cheek, drawing blood.
He came up on one knee, breathing hard, and thrust both hands forward.
The ground beneath Jubal turned to liquid. Not water, but thick, viscous liquid stone that grabbed and pulled.
Jubal tried to leap free, but for a split second he was caught, sinking-
Simion solidified it instantly. Not to stone. To something harder. Compressed at molecular levels until it was denser than diamond, a material that could not be penetrated across three conceptual universes.
Jubal's legs were trapped up to his knees.
"Finally," Simion panted, "got you to-"
Arbistoria flared white.
The sacred artifact's power surged, and reality itself seemed to crack around the trapped section. The seven-dimensional penetration didn't just bypass physical barriers; it was as if it ignored the very concept of being trapped.
Jubal pulled his legs free like he was stepping out of water.
"Impressive attempt…" Jubal said coldly, panting. "But Arbistoria transcends your parlor tricks, scholar… It doesn't matter how dense you make your constructs… My blades exist on a higher dimensional plane than your artifact can reinforce…"
"I noticed…" Simion muttered, creating four more golems to buy time.
They lasted five seconds.
Jubal was advancing now, no longer bothering to dodge or weave. His whip swords carved through everything Simion threw at him: barriers, spikes, chains, walls. The seven-dimensional cutting edge made a mockery of three-dimensional defense.
Simion was running out of tricks.
He tried a pincer attack: golems from three sides, stone spears from above, liquefying the ground beneath.
Jubal spun in place, his whip-swords extending to maximum length and creating a horizontal tornado of bladed destruction. Everything within three meters was shredded to fragments.
Simion's diamond barrier cracked.
Then shattered.
A whip-blade caught him across the ribs, carving through his reinforced robes and drawing a line of blood across his side.
He got thrown violently from the impact, one hand clutched to the wound.
"You fought well… " Jubal said, his breathing heavy but steady as he advanced. "Better than most heretics. But devotion to the Emanation grants strength beyond mortal limits. Your clever tricks and academic knowledge mean nothing before TRUE faith."
"Faith…?" Simion straightened despite the pain; he coughed blood, struggling to stand up. "You don't have faith…. You have fear... I will expose your lies even if it means damning myself… You're terrified of a universe where the divine doesn't validate your ego... Where gods don't need you to worship them… Where-"
"ENOUGH!"
Jubal's whip-swords lashed out in a dual strike, crossing at the point where Simion's head was-
CLANG.
The sound was like a perfect bell struck at exactly the right resonance.
Everything stopped.
The merchant girl stood between them.
One hand raised, palm up, almost lazy.
A small dagger rested in her palm, simple, unadorned, looking like something you'd buy at a market stall for three copper.
It had stopped both of Jubal's whip-swords dead.
No visible effort. No strain. The blades that could cut through seven dimensional constructs across seven core universes had simply... stopped. Jubal felt like he hit something infinitely harder than existence itself.
The girl was smiling.
Not her manic, wide grin from before.
This was softer. Warmer. Genuine.
"Whoops!" she said cheerfully. "Did I interrupt? Sorry, I got excited watching you guys argue and lost track of the stabbing!"
Jubal stared. His face had gone absolutely white.
"That's..." His voice cracked. "That's impossible…."
"Mm?" The girl tilted her head. "What is?"
"Your dagger..! it's just..!" Jubal pulled his whip-swords back, retracting them to normal length as he pointed accusingly. "Do you have ANY idea what you just did?! Nothing can deflect Arbistoria that easily! To stop my attack, you'd need to penetrate EIGHT-dimensional resistance across EIGHT core universal concepts! No artifact in existence can- "
"Oh, this?~" The girl held up the dagger, examining it like she'd just noticed it was there. "This is Rua's Tut Tut!"
Dead silence.
"...What," Jubal said flatly.
"Rua's Tut Tut!" The merchant girl apparently pointed at herself with her free hand. "See, I'm Rua! Nice to meet you, by the way! And when someone does something naughty, like trying to kill people during philosophical discussions, I go 'tut tut!'" She wagged her finger disapprovingly, making an exaggerated tsk-tsk sound. With no signs of being upset or even mild seriousness, she added, "Tut tut, that's bad! Because when people try to murder my new friends- I go tut tut and stop them!"
Simion felt his brain attempting to process this and failing spectacularly.
Jubal's eye twitched violently. "That is the most ABSURD-!"
"I think it's ADORABLE!~" Rua said happily. "Plus it's functional! Multi-purpose naming! Opens coconuts, deflects seven-dimensional cutting attacks, spreads butter- well, okay, I haven't tried the butter thing yet but I'm pretty sure it would work!" Looking at her dagger with a comical look, she pondered, "Maybe even for circumcision too?"
"Seven-dimensional-" Jubal's voice was strangled. "My Arbistoria operates on SEVEN-dimensional principles! NOT MANY CAN PENETRATE THROUGH EIGHT! ESPECIALLY WITH THAT STUPID LOOKING DAGGER!!"
"Oh, it's just an ordinary Tut Tut dagger~" Rua said brightly.
"ORDINARY!?" Jubal actually stumbled backward with a look of utter shock and disbelief.
*simion stared eyes wide open in disbelief* "that's… what are you..?"
Rua's smile widened. "A high quality dagger made from the best material! It's not cheap though~" She looked at Jubal. "Why are you so serious all the time? You need a girlfriend!"
"This is BLASPHEMY!" Jubal's hands tightened on his swords. "You mock the sacred, you defile holy relics, you DARE to lecture me about-!"
"About how you tried to murder someone for having an opinion? Yeah I dare. Because here's the thing, angry temple boy. What you just did? Trying to kill someone because they disagreed with you about your religion? That's exactly the kind of thing that Bithos would find SUPER disappointing if Theolis is right about her~"
"You speak as if you KNOW the Emanation!" Jubal spat.
Rua's smile didn't waver. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. But I do know that trying to murder people for having different opinions about your god is exactly what someone Joyful would be sad about! If Theolis is right about her~"
"You know NOTHING!!"
"Maybe~" Rua interrupted, her voice cheerful, "but I do know that your painting is TERRIBLE and makes her look like a cosmic horror villain. But what if… " She paused, considering. "She is like a cute lass who'd get really excited about finding the perfect churros and would want to share it with everyone. Even the people who disagree with her. Especially them, actually!"
Something in Jubal's expression cracked.
Just for a moment.
Then fury crashed back over it like a wave.
"I will NOT…" he snarled, "be lectured by some VULGAR MERCHANT who thinks-"
He attacked.
Both whip-swords extended in a dual spiral, creating a cylindrical vortex of bladed death. A technique meant to shred everything within his vicinity. A move that seemingly could shred mountains of steel impenetrable across several conceptual universes that was precise and overwhelming.
Rua stood perfectly still.
Except for her right arm.
It moved in a lazy circle, like she was stirring soup at impossible speed. The dagger in her hand became a blur, not a frantic blur, but a casual blur. Like she was swatting away mosquitos while thinking about something else.
The sound was incredible.
"Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-clang-!"
Thousands of impacts per second. Each one was a perfect intercept, meeting Jubal's blades at precisely the angle needed to deflect.
Simion couldn't even track her movements. It looked like her arm was moving at the fastest way possible, just swaying gently, but somehow the dagger was everywhere, in a dozen places at once meeting attacks from angles that should have been impossible.
Jubal poured more power into Arbistoria. The seven-dimensional cutting edge flared white, hot enough to distort the air.
Rua comically yawned.
Right in the middle of the exchange. Her mouth opened wide, she yawned luxuriously, and her free hand came up to cover her mouth politely.
Her dagger hand never stopped its lazy circular motion.
Still blocking every single strike.
Jubal's face twisted with fury and disbelief and something approaching panic.
He shifted his stance, pulling both whips back and then lashing them forward in a synchronized X-pattern designed to attack from two angles simultaneously, impossible to block without moving-
Rua's dagger somehow intercepted both.
At the same time.
Without her moving from her spot.
Simion's scholarly mind tried to work out the geometry and gave up.
"This is IMPOSSIBLE! IMPOOOSSSIIIIBLE!!!!" Jubal screamed, sweat pouring down his face. "Arbistoria is a DIVINE artifact! Blessed by the Emanation herself! How can you-!"
"Maybe," Rua said, still yawning slightly, "your blessing isn't as impressive as you think? Or maybe, I'm just really, really good at blocking! Or maybe this dagger's material is not cheap?" She giggled. "Sometimes the simplest answer is the right one!"
Jubal's composure shattered completely. "I have trained for FIFTEEN YEARS! Mastered EVERY technique! Arbistoria has never…NEVER been so easily-!"
"Hoo! Fifteen years!?" Rua's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "Wow! That's a lot of time spent learning how to hit people! Did you ever spend any time learning how to like… I don't know, approaching hot gals~? They seem more attractive than Bithos!"
"THAT PAINTING IS SACRED-"
"It's EDGY!" Rua countered cheerfully. "Like, objectively edgy! She looks like the type of woman who often cries and rants for not getting a rich hot dude!"
Despite the situation, despite the blood seeping from his wound, despite the exhaustion, despite everything, Simion felt another laugh bubble up. He couldn't stop it this time.
It came out as a sharp bark of genuine amusement.
Rua's eyes flicked to him, and her smile softened into something warmer.
Jubal's face had gone from pale to flushed to purple. "ENOUGH!"
He pulled both whip-swords back, gathering power. The air around him began to distort. Reality itself seemed to ripple as seven-dimensional energy coalesced around Arbistoria's twin blades.
This was his ultimate technique. The one he'd never used in actual combat because it required channeling his entire reserve of power through the artifact at once.
The whip-swords began to glow with white light so intense it cast shadows in broad daylight.
"Arbistoria's Seventh Seal," Jubal intoned, his voice resonating with power. "Divine Severance-"
Rua casually flicked her index finger towards Jubal, seemingly nonchalant.
It was the tiniest movement, yet with seemingly scary speed, causing it to exert projectile force.
Jubal flew backward.
Like he'd been hit by a force that could shatter the whole planet if several forces were applied further.
He tumbled across the ground, his concentration broken, his technique dissipating, before finally slamming into the hillside hard enough to crack stone and create a small crater.
He tried to rise, wheezing, blood trickling from his mouth.
Rua was suddenly standing in front of him.
Simion hadn't seen her move. She'd been twenty feet away. Now she was there, crouched down to Jubal's eye level, her expression curious and almost gentle.
"Here's the thing," she said softly, her cheerful tone taking on an oddly sincere quality. "I get it. I really do. You're scared. You've built your entire identity around worshipping someone you've never met, someone you've turned into this terrifying cosmic horror because that's the only way you can process the idea of divinity. Because if gods are scary and powerful and demanding, then at least the universe makes sense, right? At least there's order. At least you know your place."
Jubal stared at her, his eyes wide.
"But what if..." Rua continued, her voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of something vast, "what if the divine doesn't want you to know your place? What if she wants you to figure out your own place? What if the whole point is that you're supposed to be free and joyful and be yourself? Not some terrified worshipper kneeling before a cosmic horror painting?"
She reached out and very gently bopped him on the forehead with the flat of her dagger.
"Tut tut~" she said softly. "You've been very naughty. Trying to kill people over paintings. That's bad form, temple boy."
"That's…" Jubal's eyes rolled back.
He collapsed, unconscious.
Rua straightened, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. "Whew! Okay, that was fun! Been a while since I had to block that many hits! My arm's gonna be sore tomorrow! Or not?" Despite her words, she didn't seem to have any signs of strain, as if nothing had happened. She rotated her shoulder experimentally. "Well, probably not actually sore because of… you know. But it's the Principle of the thing!"
She turned to Simion, who was still sitting on the ground where he'd fallen during the fight, one hand pressed to his bleeding side, staring at her with an expression somewhere between awe, confusion, and dawning realization.
Her smile softened.
She walked over,normal walking, not the impossible instant movement from before,and offered her hand.
"You okay?" Her voice had lost its manic edge and taken on a warmer tone. "That looks like it hurts."
Simion took her hand.
She pulled him to his feet with surprising strength, though after what he'd just witnessed, nothing about her strength should surprise him.
"Here, hold still." She reached into her cart, which had somehow survived the entire battle completely unscathed despite being in the middle of the combat zone, and pulled out a small vial of red liquid. "Healing potion! The GOOD stuff, not the watered-down crap most merchants sell! This'll fix you right up!"
She uncorked it and handed it to him.
Simion drank automatically, his mind still trying to process everything that had just happened.
The pain in his side vanished instantly. He felt his ribs knit back together, his cuts sealing themselves.
He lowered the empty vial, staring at Rua.
"You..." His voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're not an ordinary merchant…."
"Maybe? Who knows~" Rua said brightly, her usual manic energy flooding back. "But I DO sell potions! And you just used one, so technically you're a customer! That'll be five silver, please!~"
Despite everything, Simion found himself reaching for his coin purse. "You just saved my life and you're charging me for the healing potion?"
"Well, YEAH!" Rua looked at him with a funny pout like this was obvious. "I'm not made of money! Do you know how expensive healing ingredients are?! Plus I've got to eat! Food costs money! So does rent! Well, I don't actually pay rent anywhere because I just sleep outside most of the time, but that's a PERSONAL CHOICE, not a financial limitation!"
Simion handed over five silver coins, feeling surreal.
He'd just watched this girl casually defeat a seven-dimensional artifact wielder. She'd stopped attacks that could cut through conceptual constructs. She'd deflected thousands of strikes with one hand while yawning.
And she was charging him for a healing potion.
"Thank you for your business!~" Rua pocketed the coins cheerfully. "Okay, so! You had questions earlier about divine hierarchies and stuff, right? Because I have OPINIONS about False Gods versus Emanations! I read even Ayonos crushes those guys! And how most religious frameworks are fundamentally missing the point- OH! But first-" She grabbed his hand. "Thank you."
Simion blinked. "For... what?"
"For defending her..." Rua smiled softly. "For standing up to an angry temple boy and saying that the real B is not the scary painting version. That was worth admiring! Even though it could've gotten you killed. That was really brave, and SWEET. HOT EVEN!"
Rua grabbed her cart handle. "Now! I'm heading to Theolis! Want to come? I heard they've got AMAZING sweets there!"
She started pushing her cart down the hillside, humming a cheerful tune.
Simion stood there for a moment, his mind reeling.
Then he adjusted his glasses, picked up his notebook from where it had fallen during the fight, and hurried after her.
"I have questions…." he said. "So many questions…."
"Of course you do! You're a Scholar!" Rua said happily. "Ask away! I might even answer some! Or I might just tell you about the time I accidentally created a breed of carnivorous flowers that only ate underwear! It's a surprise!"
"Why underwear specifically?" Simion asked with annoyance, yet in a non-serious way.
"RIGHT?! That's what I said! But apparently there's some kind of magical resonance between cotton and aggressive vegetation? I don't know, I'm not a Botanist!" She paused. "Wait, are you a botanist?"
"No, I study divine ontology and comparative theology."
"Ooh, FANCY!" Rua's eyes lit up. "Okay, so here's a question for YOU, smart boy- if a god creates a universe and then immediately regrets it, is that universe still divinely ordained or is it just a cosmic oops?"
Simion felt his brain attempting to engage with this question. "That's... actually a fascinating theological paradox. Some scholars argue that divine will is infallible by definition, therefore regret would be impossible-"
"But what IF regret IS Part of the divine experience?" Rua interrupted excitedly. "Like, what if gods INTENTIONALLY create imperfect stuff because perfection is BORING? What if the whole POINT is that things are messy and weird and full of mistakes because mistakes are where the INTERESTING stuff happens?!"
"That would contradict most theological frameworks that assume divine perfection-"
"EXACTLY!" Rua spun around, walking backward while gesturing wildly with her free hand. "Which means most theological frameworks are WRONG! Or at least INCOMPLETE! Because they're trying to make the divine FIT into human concepts of perfection when maybe.. MAYBE the divine is actually way more chaotic and fun and MESSY than anyone wants to admit!"
Simion felt something click in his mind. "That's... that aligns with the Theolis records. The way they describe B or you or..." He paused, looking at her carefully. "The way they describe her, she wasn't perfect. She made mistakes. She got into arguments. She even failed at things sometimes. But she was still..."
"Divine? Maybe that's what divine actually means! Not 'perfect and untouchable.' But authentically ALIVE and Real!"
They walked in silence for a moment, Simion's mind churning through implications.
"Alive… and real.." Simion thinks in a few moments, "You said your name is Rua?"
"Yup! It's Ruafosnya!"
End Chapter 2